Death to Isaac
by Phinea
Summary: No one in the story is named Isaac. You'll get it by the end. Voldemort wishes a test of Lucius Malfoy's loyalty, and who better to test a man than his own son? One-shot. NOT slash.


**Disclaimer – **I always write the disclaimer after I've finished writing the story. It sours the taste to say, every time, "It isn't mine, it's J.K. Rowling's," and so on and so forth, and then I get depressed and just flat-out quit.

**Author's Note – **I wrote a Draco story. I cannot believe I wrote a Draco story. In any case, do me a favor: review, and tell me what you thought, specifically on the length, whether I overused the alliteration, and the ending. Thanks!

* * *

**Death to Isaac**

One of the odder things in life, is to walk into your family's drawing room and find the Dark Lord sitting there. Then again, Draco supposed that stranger things had happened.

Lord Voldemort was on this occasion accompanied by a snake, the like of which Draco had never seen. It was long, thick, muscular and emerald green – overall, a beautiful creature. She managed to look highly venomous. She raised her head and hissed poisonously in Draco's direction. Draco's father and Lord Voldemort turned at the same time to look at him.

"Sorry," said Draco, with a deep, respectful nod toward the two men. "Please excuse me." He prepared to duck back out the door.

"No, stay, young Malfoy," said the silken, sliding voice of Voldemort. "Come closer."

Draco's heart – contrary to popular belief, he had one – jumped, with a thrill of combined fear and excitement as the Dark Lord rose. Voldemort was pale of skin and black of hair. Apart from the red glow in his eyes – the result, perhaps, of too many nights of arcane study – and the snakelike cast to his features – the result, perhaps, of too many works of twisted magics – he appeared fairly normal. This slight alienness was just enough to inspire awe, and dread. He was very tall, and skeletally thin. He was exactly what Draco had pictured him to be.

The snake glided toward Draco and began to circle him, hissing softly. Draco glanced at her, then back up to Voldemort. He did not fear snakes. "Draco," said Voldemort. He spoke the name in such a way that it reminded you of its meaning.

"Yes, sir." He kept his back straight, his chin level. Malfoy dignity until dignity was no longer an option – that was what he had been taught.

"Nagini," said Voldemort, in a slow, sensuous hiss. The snake returned to him, rapidly sliding over the green hearthrug, on which she perfectly blended. She crawled up onto Voldemort and arranged herself on his arm. Voldemort stood in his ebony cloak and regarded Draco with coldly glowing eyes. Draco raised his head proudly.

He was somewhat surprised when Voldemort did not speak to him again, instead turning to the elder Malfoy. "Lucius," he said, spinning the name with a sibiliant hiss on the second syllable, "I have long wished to ask you to prove your loyalty to me."

"Anything, my lord," Lucius said swiftly, "ask, and I shall do it."

Voldemort looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "I am pleased," he announced, seating himself again.

There was a loud silence.

"Lucius," said Voldemort, again with that slight hiss, "What do you think of my chances for ruling this pathetic excuse for a world?"

Malfoy considered it. Draco couldn't help wondering if that was meant to be a trick question. "I think that the chances are very fine, my lord," Lucius said slowly, "once we have removed Dumbledore and some of the Ministry idiots, and obtained Harry Potter."

Draco's interest was stirred. Obtained? That didn't sound like your standard killing, somehow ...

Lucius spoke slowly. "My lord, my son is in Potter's year at Hogwarts –"

"I am aware." Voldemort waved away the comment.

"If you wished a connection," Lucius forged ahead, "Draco could –"

Voldemort speared him with a level gaze. "I doubt, Lucius, that the two socialize often. Draco chooses better company, do you not?" Fortunately, he didn't wait for an answer. "Besides, I have other plans for Draco. Other ... better plans."

Draco was both nervous and eager. Was this, then to mark his beginnings as a Death Eater?

"What do you say, Lucius," said Voldemort, in an apparent dizzying change of subject, "to the idea of keeping Harry Potter as a pet? His death, after all, would be far too quick for my taste. First, I should like to see him ... broken."

Lucius nodded vigorously, his eyes lighting with anticipation. Draco's eyes gleamed also. It would be grand indeed to see the almighty Potter humbled like that. He could just picture it. Delightful.

"In fact," Voldemort went on coldly, "I am planning to begin a collection of such pets. A private menagerie, if you will, complete with collars and cages ... most amusing. The Potter boy and his foul friends, for instance, along with certain members of the Order of the Phoenix ... the werewolf, for instance, has no business being out of a cage to begin with, and some of those Aurors could afford to be taught a lesson in humility."

"I quite agree, my lord," said Lucius.

Voldemort smiled thinly. "Perhaps, then, you will be glad to make an early contribution?"

"Indeed," Lucius said promptly. "If you wish me to capture one of Potter's friends, or to see that an Order member falls into a trap –"

Voldemort shook his head. "No, I think not, Lucius," he said softly, laughter behind every word. "I was referring to your son."

Draco took an involuntary step backwards, but Lucius shot him a warning look. He held his place, hoping it was a cruel joke. A glance at Voldemort's face told him otherwise, but Voldemort rose and caught hold of his narrow shoulder.

"Well, Lucius?" Voldemort asked lightly, holding Draco fast. "You wished a test of your loyalty. Will you give me your son?"

A long, painful silence ensued. Draco watched his father nervously, afraid of what Voldemort might do when Lucius refused. He had no desire to see his father hurt. And he was somewhat afraid that Lucius' refusal might be useless –

"He is yours, my lord," muttered Lucius.

_"What?" _Draco said loudly, twisting away from Voldemort, but both men ignored him. He chided himself immediately. It was a test, of course. It must be a test. What else would it be? Surely not even Voldemort would demand such a sacrifice from a father.

"I thought you would say that, my loyal Death Eater," Voldemort hissed in a milk-smooth voice. "Thank you for your gift." He ruffled Draco's pale hair, then clamped one long-fingered white hand on the boy's arm. Reaching in the pocket of his robes with the other hand, he withdrew a small object. It was a thin strip of black leather worked in silver with the design of a snake – a collar. "Hold still, Draco," Voldemort ordered perfunctorily. Draco only glimpsed the snake design before the collar was around his neck.

"Don't worry," Voldemort said pleasantly to Lucius. "He'll be well treated. I thank you for your tribute. You have proved your loyalty to me. I must see about a reward for you."

Struggling, Draco wondered what the reward would be, how high a price it would take to replace a son before his father.

Nagini hissed. It sounded like she was laughing.

* * *

_"What does it profit a man to gain the whole world, if he should lose his own son?"_

_"It profits a man the world, and by Jason, the world is enough!"_

_—Stephen King/Peter Straub, The Talisman_

* * *

**About That Title**: I was thinking about how Voldemort's rising in the fourth book sort of darkly mirrors the Resurrection, setting him up as a completely dark hellion. I thought, "What other Biblical events can I pervert?" Abraham and Isaac. And if you don't know what that is, don't worry. You missed the point of the title, but it shouldn't have affected the story at all. In fact, I thought about calling it "Profit." The quote bothers me -- the speaker is Morgan Sloat, and I always thought that he was scarily like unto Peter Pettigrew -- but it works, I suppose. Please do review.


End file.
